Tale 54- The Beautiful Duckling

 The two girls arrived in a town past the hills, where the Traveler was a little more alert than usual. She had a bad feeling about the place, noticing a group of sharp and jagged rocks on the nearby path, and examined them for a moment. Suddenly, she grabbed Sara’s wrist and practically dragged her down an alley, peeking out to stare at the rocks once more. Nothing there. Nothing was moving, they were just dull, grey rocks. Sarafelle looked at her in confusion, but didn’t question anything. She knew the Traveler had reasons for hiding, she knew that all too well, and considered it kind that the Traveler would even think of protecting her too. A sound down the alley made them both stare in fright, but it was just an old beggar woman sitting there, staring up at them with a smile. Though the Traveler didn’t like alleys, she didn’t see this person as dangerous and approached her, the old lady smiling. “Hello there dearie. You haven't got any spare change, have you?” she tried, but neither of them had much at all. The Traveler had only a few possessions to her name, but she didn’t even have her name, so that was that. Sarafelle had some money, but it was necessary to save it in case they needed it, or to give them nights of warmth. Checking one more time, the Traveler deduced it was merely a trick of the light, that Calius wasn’t hiding in the rocks, and turned as the old beggar woman patted the ground next to her, offering her a seat. Cautiously, the Traveler sat, Sarafelle watching from a little further away, since she was rather hesitant to approach the older woman. The beggar woman smiled, prepared to tell the tale of ‘the Beautiful Duckling’.

‘There was once a female duck who lived in a nearby pond, taking the same route each and every day to try and find herself food. Each day she would walk past an old lady, one who had lost her husband and was condemned to poverty, but the small creature always brightened her day. Each and every day the duck would waddle up the alley, be gone for a while, and then waddle back down with food, stopping to look up at the beggar every single time. One strange day, though, she didn’t appear, and continued to be gone for about a week, until she finally reappeared, going down the same path. Though she could easily have flown, it appeared this search for food was far more riveting on foot, so the beggar couldn’t question it. The duck one day appeared with six little ducklings behind her, all the smallest and softest little creatures, melting the old woman’s heart. As they crowded around her, the old lady was permitted to stroke them, noticing the smallest one had a bad leg and moved slower than the rest. Day after day they would walk the same path as their mother, the older woman watching them grow. Despite the one with the bad leg moving far slower and being a little clumsy, he grew into the most beautiful of all, and whilst the others migrated far and wide, the little duckling stayed with his mother, and now visits each and every day alongside her.’

The Traveler wrote the tale, before Sarafelle pointed, a finger to her lips. Down the alley appeared two small ducks, approaching the old woman and the Traveler. Indeed, one of them had a slightly bad leg, but approached the stranger nonetheless, allowing the girl to gently stroke him. He was soft, making her smile slightly and forget her previous anxieties. As they waddled further down the alley, the Traveler stood and bid the old woman goodbye, the two heading to try and find another place to stay for the night, as it looked like there might be rain.